


Silence is not lost time

by MariaLujan



Category: Call the Midwife, Downton Abbey
Genre: Brotp, Drama, F/F, Family, Friendship, Gen, Love, Orphans, Sisters, alcoholic father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaLujan/pseuds/MariaLujan
Summary: When her father dies, Anna Smith discovers that he has another daughter, named Shelagh.Shelagh Mannion knew all her life that her father preferred his daughter Anna.They are sisters, but resentment and pain keep them apart.This is their way to make up for lost time.
Relationships: Anna Bates/John Bates, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 18
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi people, this is my first Downton Abbey and Call The Midwife fanfic, and as many of you know, English is not my first language, so please have mercy on me! I apologize if you see any errors.  
> Thanks for your time!

*1*

_August 1964_

“Mom, can I get some more sleep?”

She smiled, and stroked her son's hair.

“It's okay, just because you're on holiday. But then when you get up, we'll go buy your new uniform for school.”

“No, I hate school!” The boy covered his head with his pillow, and shook his legs.

“But it's a new school, you'll love it!”

Laughing, she removed the pillow and kissed his forehead.

“Sleep a little more my love.”

The boy made himself comfortable on his bed and immediately closed his eyes.

She closed the door slowly and went to the bathroom. There she combed her blonde hair looking intently at the new lines that appeared around her blue eyes. She turned on the light to see herself better, even though the sun was shining through the window.

“Oh no,” she said, looking better at her face.

“What happened, love?” her husband came in smiling, “Good morning.”

“New wrinkles,” she said pointing to the person who was looking at her from the mirror, a person just like her but who seemed too old.

“Where? I see you perfect.”

“Look, here and here,” she approached the mirror, marking her face with her fingers, “That wasn't there yesterday!”

Her husband laughed, as always.

“You always look good, love. Don't worry about those things. Look at me, I have many more!”

“Wrinkles look better on men,” she muttered and left the bathroom, hearing her husband's laugh again.

She tied her hair into a messy ponytail and looked around the kitchen. Complaining would not make breakfast, so she got to work. First she opened the window, it was too hot day, and all the heat seemed to have accumulated in the apartment. In fact, she had slept quite little at night due to the heat, and in addition to being wrinkled, she felt very tired.

Also, she felt nervous. But she did not want to think about that.

“John, do you have everything ready?” she asked when she saw her husband coming out of the bathroom, combing his hair.

“Everything is ready” he sat down to tie the laces of his shoes, “Although nothing will prepare me to travel by bus and then by subway with this summer day.”

“Then I’ll prepare clothes for you so that when you arrive, you can change. I don't want the employees to see the manager all dirty and sweaty on the fifth day of taking over the hotel.”

“That's why you're my sunshine,” John smiled, standing up, “I'll finish breakfast. What will you do today?”

“I'll go with Johnny to buy his uniform. And I'll see if the shops around need a clerk, or something I can do,” she said, leaving the kitchen and entering the bedroom. Quickly, she opened the closet and was folding a T-shirt, a shirt, and another tie, and put them in a small bag, “Oh, I'll put your perfume too.”

“Anna you don't have to,” John leaned against the door, looking at her.

“You need your perfume, you will not be able to bathe when you arrive. Where did you put it?” she opened a closet drawer, and then another, until she found it.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you don't have to look for a job. We will live very well with my salary, you know it is an excellent job. And look, this flat is not bad at all.”

“Yes, we live well but you are more than an hour from your work. If I earn money too, we can pay for something that is closer. Traveling so much every day will hurt you.”

“That's not like that, because we both know that the old one here is you.”

“John!”

He laughed, disappearing into the kitchen. She followed him with the bag in hand, saw him putting the teacups on the table.

“Sit down and have breakfast, stop complaining,” her husband also put a plate of biscuits in front of her, “Besides, it makes no sense to live in the West End, we will become refined people and we don’t like that, right?”

“No,” she smiled slightly, concentrating on her tea.

John sat beside her, in silence. Without taking her eyes off her cup, she felt he was observing her, and she knew why.

The night before, she announced to him that she was going to do it. She would put all her courage to do it today, but that today had arrived, and she did not find that courage.

John wanted to cheer her up, if she just raised her eyes she knew she would meet his gaze, giving her confidence. Somehow, he was trying to repay her for the support she gave him when the offer of a position as manager of the most expensive hotel in London appeared. It meant leaving Yorkshire, leaving friends, and leaving Anna's job as a housekeeper for the Crawley family. She accepted despite all that, she was excited and happy that John had a unique opportunity, and immediately she began to pack all the belongings.

But just a month later, London became synonymous with something else. Something dark, something from the past that was suddenly spit out by her father before he died.

And Anna's enthusiasm faded, turned into a fake smile to support John and make her son feel comfortable, and nothing more.

“Anna is not an obligation that you do this. You lived years without knowing it, you can continue like this.”

“The difference is that now I know it,” she replied without looking at him, concentrating on destroying a biscuit next to her cup of tea, “We shouldn't live here.”

“What?” he blinked, looked at the kitchen, “What's wrong with this? It is a modern and new building.”

“I'm not talking about the building, I mean Poplar. We shouldn't be here. That's why I want us to move to another place.”

“Anna we arrived a fortnight ago. Just because your sister lives here doesn't mean you find her every step of the way. Forget that.”

Her lids tightened when he said _"your sister"._ She had never heard that word related to her.

She had no brothers or sisters, until she knew that she had lived wrong.

_Three months earlier._

“Relatives of Mr. Smith?”

They both stood up, looking at the doctor. They had been waiting in a corridor at the hospital for a few minutes, hoping there was good news. The doctor's face said otherwise.

“I'm afraid Mr. Smith is in a very delicate state.”

She felt John's arm go around her, and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

“How long?” was all she could get out of her mouth, with a small voice.

“We don't think he'll get through tonight. I'm so sorry, ma'am.”

“Can we see him?” asked John. He was very worried, and that made Anna love him even more, because her father had never been a good father-in-law, despite John's best efforts. But John esteemed him anyway, and respected him as his wife's father.

“Yes, you better see him now, but he can't speak.”

The doctor stepped aside, then escorted them down a corridor to a room where Joseph Smith was dying, losing his battle against cirrhosis, a gift from his addiction to alcohol.

When Anna saw him, the man seemed even smaller and frailer than hours before, when he entered the operating room. However, he was agitated, nervous, and was moving his hands trying to remove the oxygen mask.

“Try to be calm,” John said, and that earned him a stern look of contempt from the sick man.

“Dad, it's true, calm down. It will hurt you to be like this,” Anna tried to smile at him, taking one of Joseph's thin hands.

But still, the man managed to remove his mask.

“I'll die anyway” he declared in a thick voice, “Darling, come here.”

“What is happening Dad?” she leaned down, tried to put the mask on him, but surprisingly her father still had enough strength and did not allow her to do so.

“You have to know something,” Joseph's voice came out a little clearer now, but it was strained, as if it really hurt him physically to pronounce the words, “I was a bastard all my life.”

“Don’t say that. Put this on, come on, “she tried to smile at him again, totally failing because her eyes were filling with tears from seeing her father's state.

“No!” Joseph removed her hand and threw the mask, which fell hanging from the bed, “If I hadn't been a bastard, I wouldn't be like this. I’m paying for everything I did.”

“Well dad, I understand you. Don't worry about that now...” John handed her the mask, she tried to put it back where it should be.

“Leave me alone with that thing and listen to me!” Joseph began to cough, but pushed Anna's hands away. When the cough passed, he laid his head back on the pillow and looked his daughter in the eye, “There was another woman...”

Anna looked at John, who on the other side of the bed shook his head, sighing.

“Dad, that doesn't surprise me. You were always a heartbreaker,” she giggled, trying to calm her father.

“There was another woman,” he repeated, ignoring her, “There was another, in Scotland. My wife.”

“What?” frowning, she looked into her father's eyes, “What do you mean by that?”

“She was my wife. Meredith, yes...She was my wife.”

The word _wife_ lit the wick of doubt.

Her father never married her mother. He said he was an anarchist and an atheist, and the marriage went against his convictions. Her mother, Muriel, was always "my love" or "my girl" to Joseph. Never _"my wife_ ". And Anna never heard the name Meredith.

“There’s a girl, like you,” Joseph whispered, calmer. John tried to put the mask on, the dying man pulled his hand away again, but weakly.

“Dad?”

“A girl. My daughter with Meredith. Shelagh. She was identical to her mother” he smiled, his mouth full of gaps and few teeth.

Anna looked at him, then at John, who shrugged.

“Dad, what are you saying?”

“She’s a girl like you, yes. My girl,” he whispered.

“Dad...” she looked at him carefully, she had never seen her father with a dreamy and serene face like that, apparently what he was remembering was something really beautiful. She licked her lips, trying to ask the question as subtly as possible, “Dad, do you have another daughter?”

But Joseph closed his eyes, shook his head.

Anna looked at her husband again, while her father coughed again. She was afraid to ask, and Joseph did not say anything else either. She let John put the mask on the man’s face, and son-in-law and daughter sat on either side of the bed, waiting.

Joseph passed away three hours later.

***

“Do you see that little bird? It’s just like you, tiny but loud.”

She tickled the baby, who squirmed laughing in her arms.

She turned away from the window, and with the dexterity of a mother of many children, she began to make breakfast with one hand. Her son tried to grab everything, and she, laughing, gently scold him.

“Mom, I'm starving!”

“Good morning Mom, how are you this morning? I’m very good Timothy, and you?” she replied, mocking.

Her teenage son rolled his eyes, took the steps two at a time, and walked toward her.

“Good morning Mom, etcetera, etcetera. I'm starving!”

“That is a good sign, it means that your body wants strength to, for example, take care of your brother,” quickly and before the boy could react, she left the baby in his arms.

“Mom! He’ll make my clothes dirty!”

“Since when are you interested in your clothes?” She looked at him raising an eyebrow, causing the boy to blush.

“Maybe it has to do with Maggie's presence at the Scout meeting today,” Patrick said, coming down the stairs. His son blushed even more, then made a disgusted face when his father kissed Shelagh on the lips.

“God, it's too early for this entire sweet monstrosity,” Tim said, leading his little brother into the living room.

Patrick helped his wife bring tea to the table.

“Shelagh, you don't need to go to the prenatal clinic. Look how hot it is today, you can stay here and rest.”

She looked at him, her hands on her hips.

“Is it really not necessary? I don’t believe you at all.”

“Well, you are very necessary, I’m not going to lie to you. But...”

“I'll go, Patrick. Also the girls love it, and so does Teddy. They already made a lot of friends. And I want to work!”

“All right, stubborn girl, I learned that I shouldn’t discuss your decisions,” raising his hands in innocence, her husband sat at the table and called Tim and the baby.

They started eating breakfast, making all kinds of funny faces and jokes to make Teddy laugh.

Then, as always, father and eldest son rushed out full of recommendations from Shelagh. She started cleaning, chatting with her baby son, and then woke up her two daughters.

“Today we will go to buy many things to make a delicious dinner. And in the afternoon, we have the clinic. You must behave very well because mom will be working, and dad too,” Shelagh said as she combed the straight hair of both girls.

“And will Sister Julienne be there?” Angela asked.

“Yes. And also will be Sister Monica Joan, and Aunt Trixie, and all the nurses, and the moms with their babies, and their little siblings. And you can play a lot.”

“But we will behave well,” May declared.

“Of course you do,” Shelagh gave each one a loud kiss on the cheek, “You will behave well because with Teddy, you are the most beautiful and educated children in the world.”

***

John squeezed her hand, then stood up.

“I'll be late.”

Anna stood up too, and handed him the bag with the clothes.

“Take care.”

“You too. Anna, you know, if you don't want to, don't do it. But if you do it, you have my full support. Promise me that you will call me.”

“John you'll be working...”

“Promise me that you will call me. I can't accompany you, but I don't want you to go through this alone.”

She nodded and he kissed her forehead and kissed her lips.

“I love you. See you at night.”

“I love you too. Good luck and take care of your leg.”

John smiled at her, took his cane, and walked out the door. She stood there, watching him until he took the elevator and disappeared.

Anna began to clean up quickly and then woke her son up again.

Johnny got up very lazy and she waited for him with breakfast ready, while she made the shopping list.

“Good morning,” said the boy yawning, sitting in front of his cup of warm milk.

“Good morning sleepyhead. Take your milk so we can go for a walk. Would you like to go to your new friend Jim's house this afternoon? I have to do some things.”

“Can I go with you?”

“You won't like it, they are...very boring things.”

“Fine. I'll bring my new car and my plane to play with Jim.”

She smiled at the boy, watching him drink the milk, which left a funny mustache under his little nose.

She kept writing on the list, trying not to forget anything, although in reality her mind was full of other things.

Exactly three months ago, she was burying her father.

“Do you think what he said is true?” John asked her, once the commotion had passed, as they returned home from the funeral.

“For God sake, John. It was morphine who spoke. He was delirious.”

“You know it could be true.”

She still did not realize that her father had quickly fallen ill and died, so the outrage against her husband immediately emerged.

“How can you say that?! Yes, he wasn’t the best man with you, but he loved me very much and also my mother, he could never do something like that! I know, he was an alcoholic and all that, but have another family? And in Scotland? He never went there.

“Anna, you told me that until you were 11 years old, your father went from here to there, traveling. Then he settled in your house.”

“Because he changed jobs and started his greengrocer. He wasn’t a bad guy, how can he have another woman, another daughter? It’s nonsense!”

But just two days later, while they were in Joseph's small rented cottage, gathering his few belongings, John called her from the bedroom.

She had been putting plates and vases in a box, and went to meet her husband. She saw him with the nightstand drawer on the Joseph's bed, and a pile of photographs and papers.

“Anna, look at this,” he said, handing her a photograph.

There was a girl with glasses and school clothes. On the back, written in a handwriting she didn't know, a simple name: _"Shelagh Smith."_

“What is this?” Anna said looking again at the girl in the photograph.

“There are letters here,” John answered, rummaging through the papers, “And there are other photos.”

Anna looked at the pictures. In all of them there was the same girl, sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger, sometimes alone, sometimes with a curly-haired woman, sometimes...with her father. With Joseph Smith.

“What is this?” she repeated, this time in a terrified whisper.

John put the pile of letters next to her. With shaking hands, she took them and read the return addresses. _"Meredith Mannion"_ it said in many of them. In others, it said _"Lorna Mannion."_

“John...” she barely said, he took one of her hands, and squeezed it.

“Calm down, let's read them. Maybe it's not what we think, maybe he knew these people but when he told you he confused everything and said what he said.”

John carefully opened one of the letters. It was a single paper, crumpled and yellow. Anna just watched him intently, unable to touch an envelope or another photograph.

Suddenly John put the letter down, with a sigh, and took another.

“What does it say?”

John did not respond and opened the envelope, one of which belonged to Lorna Mannion.

“God...” she heard him say.

“John?”

He put the letter aside, and looked at her. There was compassion in his eyes and it almost made her nauseous.

“I'm so sorry, Anna.”

***

The doors of the Iris Knight Institute thundered open, giving way to three Turner children who entered with energy, their footsteps and laughter announcing the arrival of their weary mother.

“Good afternoon,” Shelagh greeted her companions, then looked at her children, “I thought I told them to behave well, but you see...”

“Oh Shelagh they are children, what else could you expect?” Trixie, the nurse Shelagh had known for the longest, came over to help her with her bag while she laughed, “Today we have apple sodas, do you want to come and have one in the kitchen? So you rest a little.”

But several mothers began to arrive, some with their bellies about to explode, others with their babies in their arms, so Shelagh declined the invitation and sat in front of their table, greeting each woman, reviewing their data, organizing everything in an efficient way, as she always did.

She had been working hard for almost an hour when she saw that her two daughters were pushing each other, while another pair of girls watched them.

“Angela! May!” she called, but her daughters seemed to be interspersed in arguing, apparently, over the ownership of a stuffed rabbit of which each one grabbed an ear, pulling regardless of the poor animal ending up without them.

She immediately stood up, looking everywhere. Sister Hilda was free so with a nod she relieved her in the reception. Shelagh walked over to the girls.

“Daughters, what is happening here? Why are they fighting?” she squatted down, looking at them sternly, but the girls were only concentrating on each other.

“It's mine,” May said, tugging at the toy with both hands.

“It's mine!” Angela exclaimed, louder.

“This rabbit doesn’t belong to either of you, it’s from this place and it’s here for all the children to play. So let it go,” gently, Shelagh tugged on one of the rabbit's feet. With reluctance, the girls released it. She put the toy down, along with other dolls.

“Now say sorry.”

Both girls looked at each other, frowning.

“Come on girls, what do I always tell you?”

May looked at her, then lowered her head.

“That your sister is the best friend you can have,” she whispered.

“So…?”

“We should never fight,” Angela completed, with the same stance as her sister.

“Very good. Now say sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

Shelagh smiled at them, then kissed each of them on the forehead.

“Now play with the other children, I don't want to see any more fights.”

Shelagh stood up, and walked over to her table. Sister Hilda smiled at her.

“Sometimes I admire your patience,” said the nun, winking at her.

“Sorry,” she answered, full of guilt.

“Oh, don't worry, I was free. Stay calm, I'll see that they don't fight again over the rabbit or something else.”

Shelagh smiled gratefully, sitting down and sorting her papers.

“Good afternoon.”

She looked up. In front of her, there was a small woman, with blond hair, tied in a bun. She had a green folder in one hand, and her blue eyes looked nervously around the room.

“Good afternoon,” Shelagh smiled at her, “Do you have an appointment?”

“I'm looking for Shelagh Smith.”

She looked at her without blinking. It had been years, many years that her name and Smith did not go together.

“Or maybe they know her here as Shelagh Mannion,” the woman said. She was clenching the green folder so hard her knuckles were white.

“It’s...it's me,” Shelagh said swallowing hard, suddenly uncomfortable, and wanting to flee, deducing that something bad was happening but not knowing exactly what.

The woman swallowed too, suddenly her eyes seemed to fill with tears.

“Who are you?” Shelagh asked, although she was not sure if she had managed to ask the question, because the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat, and the only thing she could see was that woman who was looking at her, with a look that she already knew and which, thank God, she had pulled from her memory a long time ago.

“I'm Anna Smith,” she barely heard, a small whisper amid the general hubbub.

Both women stared at each other, knowing exactly who the other was.


	2. Chapter 2

_Before starting the chapter, I'm going to give you a bit of information about the characters, in case you haven't seen Downton or CTM (this should have been at the beginning of the first chapter, but I'm distracted, sorry)._

_Here we have the Bates family: Anna Smith, John Bates, and little Johnny (in this story, Johnny will be a couple of years older)._

__

_In Downton Abbey, Anna is a maid for the Crawley family, and John is Lord Grantham's valet. Anna and John once mentioned the idea of owning a hotel, so here I described John as the manager of a very prestigious hotel in London. And after many struggles and inconveniences, Johnny arrived and they have their little family._

_And here we have the Turner clan. Patrick, Shelagh, May, Angela, Teddy and Timothy (thanks to @fourteen-teacups and @ilovemushystuff for the pics)_

__

_Shelagh Mannion met Dr. Patrick Turner when she was still Sister Bernadette (yes, she was a nun!) of the Order of St. Raymond Nonnatus (which is why Nonnatus House is perhaps mentioned several times here). She is also a nurse and midwife and has a very beautiful relationship with her former superior, Sister Julienne._

_Well, I think that's all for now but if you have doubts, don't hesitate to ask me!_

*2*

“If you come to tell me that my father is dead, I'll answer you: I don't care,” Shelagh said, her voice hard and cold. Then she made a forced smile, glancing at someone behind Anna.

Anna looked over her shoulder, noticing that behind her were two women.

She stepped aside, and watched Shelagh smile and chat with the women, warm and affectionate, though her eyes strayed to Anna from time to time, giving her a sharp look behind her gold glasses.

When the women left, Anna again stood in front of Shelagh.

“Joseph died, it was three months ago,” she tried to make her voice sound firm. In spite of everything, the loss of her father still hurt her a lot.

“I’m glad.”

Anna was shocked to see that Shelagh did not care at all that her father was dead. What is more, she was not even looking at the person in front of her; she was busy with her papers.

Anna opened her green folder. With much pain, she had stored the photos and letters there, and with them she knew who Meredith Mannion, Lorna Mannion, and Shelagh Smith were.

The task was arduous, but it quickly paid off, so when Anna knew exactly where her sister lived, that was when she realized what was happening. She was living many griefs together: one, for her dead father; another, for knowing that her father was not who she believed; and another, because she discovered that she had a sister she never knew anything about.

John was right, she lived for years without knowing it, she could go on like this.

But now they both lived in London, and while it was a huge city, every step she took she did with the fear that any woman she saw could be _her sister._

The situation became unbearable, and she made the decision to face it at once.

But face the situation was not the same as face Shelagh Mannion.

The person in front of her was a different woman from the one she imagined, and she continued with her papers, completely ignoring her, as if Anna were not there watching her and waiting.

_She knows,_ Anna thought. _She knows who I am._

“I...met your father,” Anna said, trying to find her voice and trying to get the woman to look at her. She pulled out one of the letters from the green folder, her hands shook with the yellowish envelope, “Was your mother's name Meredith?”

“Does that matter to you?”

Shelagh was looking at her now, but firmly, and her face was not showing the slightest expression. Instead, her voice denoted annoyance and anger.

Anna felt something akin to fear when she discovered that she was being analyzed almost clinically.

She took a deep breath, although her chest weighed on her nerves.

“Shelagh, I'm...I was looking for you because you need to know something.”

“I don't _need_ anything, I have it _all._ ”

She punctuated that last word with a slam of her stack of papers against the table as she stood up.

Anna swallowed hard, realizing something.

Shelagh had it all. She, too.

Why, then, look for a sister?

Despite not knowing the answer, Anna decided to try it one last time, even though she knew she would fail.

“I wouldn't want to disturb you while you work, if you could give me your address...”

“No.”

That was all Shelagh replied, before turning her back on her and leaving.

***

She locked herself in the bathroom with a slam of the door and rummaged through the pockets of her uniform until she found a cigarette and lit it.

She managed to take the first puff before bursting into tears.

“Bastard, bastard, bastard!” she exclaimed through her teeth, leaning against the cold tile wall. She slowly dropped to sit on the floor.

She took another puff, then tossed the cigarette down the toilet and rested her forehead on her bent legs to stifle her sobs.

She could not believe it. Again, the ghost of her father haunting her. As always, showing up when she was happiest, to ruin everything.

_“Stop crying for your father! He has another wife and another daughter!”_

She heard Aunt Lorna's yell in her ears, and she felt again an eleven-year-old girl, with a dead mother, a missing father, and an aunt tired of her crying.

She did not want to believe her, but Lorna told everything, and she was so tough, so convincing, that Shelagh, the little, smart and responsible, but lonely and sad Shelagh, believed it all, because she knew it was true.

Shelagh knew that her father would end up leaving, because she was not enough, because without her mother she was a useless girl who used to get sick, and who did not see well, and did not grow up like other girls, and she was not pretty or nice.

It was logical for him to leave, to find another woman and have a better daughter.

The terrible revelation was only more painful when she knew the age of that other daughter.

_"Anna, her name is Anna and her mother's name is Muriel, Mariel, or something like that, who cares?"_ her aunt said through indignant tears.

Anna was not a baby, or a little girl. Anna was her age. Anna was even a little older than her, for a few months.

Her father had been seeing that other girl's mother while he was married to Shelagh’s mother. Perhaps he visited that family while her mother was dying in bed, thinking that her husband traded trinkets all over the country to earn money and open his own store.

And of course, he preferred that other woman, and that other daughter, whom Shelagh imagined prettier, taller, more intelligent than her. They lived in Yorkshire, in a place that she did not even know where it was, but it sure had better weather, better houses, better neighbors.

Aunt Lorna knew it all because, when she got tired of writing letters to all the places she thought Joseph might be, he came back, drunk, shouting that he had a family, and looking for his daughter Shelagh to take her away.

“As if I were a puppy,” she said taking off her glasses and drying her eyes, feeling the cold of the bathroom floor creeping into her entire body, “As if I were a puppy that he could come and get whenever he wanted to take him to live with his other puppy. As if I could leave my aunt, my city, my school, to go somewhere else, with another woman I didn't even know, whom I should call Mom.”

Another sob tore through her, and she hugged her knees closer.

She would always be grateful to her aunt for protecting her from that man, for raising her, for taking her home when she knew that Shelagh had been left alone in the world, without mother and father, without anyone.

“Like a puppy,” she repeated, “Alone like an abandoned puppy.”

Knowing that he came back for her did not make her happy. Nor did she feel hatred knowing that Lorna refused to wake her up, pack her bag, and hand her over to her father.

She felt nothing, because at the age of eleven a part of her soul suddenly dried up.

That day, her father died for her. She hid him in her memory with hatred, and then buried him in oblivion. To affirm it more, when she had the possibility she changed her name. The last name of her deceased mother, of her aunt who constantly cared for her, of her honest and faithful grandfather, was much better than the last name of someone who did not exist.

But Joseph returned some time later, a drunken veteran soldier, when she not only had her bags packed for London, but also had her aunt and the only person in her world buried by the sea.

She kicked him out. And she wished him to die, in the most painful way possible.

He reappeared years later; she never knew how he recognized her under the white and blue habit. And again, despite the fact that she was already a nun, she kicked him out and also yelled at him to die.

She never saw him again, and secretly wished he had died because of her.

But now he was back, at her workplace, among the people she loved the most. He was dead, but he was alive in that woman who looked at and spoke to her, telling her that she needed to know something. She already knew it all, she knew it when she was too young to understand it but old enough to hurt her whole life.

“Shelagh? Shelagh are you here?”

She stood up quickly when she heard Sister Julienne's voice calling her. The last thing she wanted was for someone to see her like this, much less to know what had just happened.

“Shelagh?”

She smoothed out her clothes and opened the door, trying to smile.

“Here I am sister, do you need me?”

The nun looked at her in surprise, then her face transformed with worry and panic.

“Shelagh are you feeling well?” immediately a hand went to her forehead, then to one of her cheeks, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she lied and tried to smile again, although she knew she was failing and nothing would do to fool those who knew her as if she were her mother.

Sister Julienne analyzed the entire face of the nurse with her gaze, as if trying to figure out what Shelagh was hiding.

“You were crying, what happened? Something with the children? Did you fight with your husband?”

“No, none of that happened.”

“But something happened Shelagh, you left suddenly and didn't come back. I saw you talking to a woman I never saw, and she left and no nurse checked her, she only talked to you. Did something happen with her?”

Shelagh pursed her lips, for the first time hating that Sister Julienne was always worried and keeping an eye on her. She looked at the ground, shook her head.

The nun took her chin and lifted her face to look at her.

“Tell me what happened.”

She denied again, trying to downplay the situation and at the same time trying to prevent a sob from emerging. She totally failed at both, and the nun wrapped her arms around her and she clung on, needing the comfort and protection that only Julienne could give her. She always saw the nun as her mother, she had not even seen Lorna as her mother, because her aunt was sometimes tough and severe and demanding, instead Sister Julienne always looked at her differently, as if she felt that Shelagh needed a mother desperately. And she was always willing to be that mother.

“My father died,” she whispered into the blue cloth of the habit, the scent of which reminded her of home and love.

“I’m so sorry, Shelagh,” she heard Julienne replied.

But Shelagh quickly pulled away, removing her glasses to wipe her eyes.

“No sister. Don't be sorry, I'm relieved.”

“Shelagh don't say that...”

“You know well what that man meant to me.”

The nun nodded, taking her hands in hers. Of course she knew, Julienne was the only one who saw Sister Bernadette completely beside herself, yelling at a dirty man who called her “my little daughter”, and Julienne was the only one who was holding Bernadette when she cried non-stop all the pain accumulated over the years.

“Did that woman come to tell you that?”

Shelagh nodded, sniffed, and put on her glasses.

“Actually, she came to tell me something else, but I know what it is. And I don't want to know anything about that or about her.”

She saw Julienne take a step closer, putting her hands on her shoulders.

“No sister, don't ask me to forgive. I’m not Christ, I cannot forgive.”

“I wasn't going to tell you that, Shelagh. I know you were in too much pain for a long time to forgive everything, and I’m not the one to tell you what to do.”

A lump formed in her throat at the knowledge that she was loved and understood.

“Thanks for that,” Shelagh barely whispered.

“Who was the woman who came to tell you?”

She sighed, shook her head.

“Her name is Anna Smith. My father was Joseph Smith. I know there are millions of Smiths around the world, but I know that she is his daughter. I knew it when I was a child. I never thought I would see her, or that she would appear like this, here.”

She pursed her lips, trying not to let the crying overcome her again, but it seemed that now that she had started crying about this, she could not stop.

Sister Julienne hugged her again, made soothing circles on her back, whispering that she could cry all she needed, that she would be there to comfort her.

But Shelagh's eyelids tightened, frustrated to see that until half an hour ago, she had been a happy woman with a happy family, and now she was completely devastated by something that happened decades before.

“You never told me you had a sister. Maybe you can...”

“No!” Shelagh exclaimed, separating, frightened by what Julienne wanted to tell her, “No, I won't see her, I don't want to talk to her.”

“But Shelagh, you can...”

“No, no. I hate her. I hate her and I know, it's not her fault, but I don't want anything related to that man. My only sisters were the ones I had when I was a nun, and my friends. I don't want anyone else in my life.”

“It's fine, Shelagh, it's fine,” Julienne attracted Shelagh to her, and kissed her hair, "It's fine, honey. Come on, go home and rest. I'll take care of your children, I'll tell your husband to go with you.”

“No, no, no,” Shelagh broke away again, more terrified, “Please don't tell Patrick. He doesn't know about this.”

“Shelagh! Didn't you tell him either?”

She swallowed hard, this was the last thing she needed, for Sister Julienne to look at her like that, making her realize her mistake.

It only took half an hour, half an hour to destroy everything that cost her so much to build.

She had too much burden knowing that she was never completely honest with her husband, and now she had to think about telling him as soon as possible, because she did not know Anna Smith, she did not know if she could appear again and talk to her husband, to her kids, or with anyone from Poplar who could tell everyone that Shelagh Turner was not who she claimed to be.

Shelagh felt she was hyperventilating at the gravity of what was happening, and Julienne squeezed her arms, forcing her to look at her face, making her copy her breaths so she would not end up fainted on the floor.

As she did so, Shelagh could only think of one thing.

_I hate you, Anna Smith._

***

She reread the letter.

It was signed with rage; it was obvious at first glance.

_Lorna Mannion_.

A widowed and lonely woman, demanding that a father take care of his daughter.

It was logical that Shelagh felt hatred. Because Anna was sure Shelagh felt hatred. That disinterest was only feigned, it was a cloak to hide it.

Anna understood her perfectly, because she was hating her father in the same way.

Because while Joseph ruined his youngest daughter's childhood, now, after he died, he was ruining his eldest daughter's adulthood.

She always knew that her father was not exemplary. Alcohol, bad friends, nights at the pubs singing and playing guitar, gambling on all the games he could find, and women. Women everywhere.

Muriel, her friendly and adorable mother during the day, cried at night, almost every night. But then she greeted Joseph with open arms, a hot bath, and fresh food.

Anna grew up thinking that was fine, that having a father meant that. After all, most of her friends and the mothers of her friends went through the same thing. The difference that made him a great father was that Joseph always had some kind word for his daughter Anna, or some gift won in gambling, or the best apple in his grocery store. He never looked down on her, yelled at her, or hit her.

He was never able to pay her a higher education, but he was proud of his daughter's responsibility at work and the trust that the most important family in the region had in her. Knowing that she was valued by him, made Anna always grow a great love for her father.

He was a drunk, but when he saw her, his eyes lit up and his mind cleared, and Anna felt like a more important princess than Mary Crawley, because in her eyes, her father was a king who lived only for her.

But now she knew that while she grew up enjoying all of this, a girl with the same blood lived a very different life. And that was unforgivable.

It was not her fault, but she felt responsible for that, even if it was silly to feel that way. She wanted to remedy it somehow.

Shelagh knew who Anna was, it was clear. So why tell her, why confirm it?

Anna could only think of selfish reasons. She would feel better if Shelagh knew it, she would feel that her search had been successful. She would feel, stupidly, that her father was not wrong because he gave her a sister she did not expect, as if it were one last gift before he died.

But Shelagh would hate her. There was nothing Anna could change with her words or her actions. Even if Joseph revived, he could not change what happened to Shelagh.

She put the letter in the green folder, and closed it gently.

Nothing made sense.

Anna left the apartment and rang the bell next door. Her neighbor, Mrs. Jones, was adorable and also a mother of just one boy, Jim. In the fifteen days that they had lived in the building, the woman was kind and friendly, and happy that her son had a neighbor to play with.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bates,” the woman greeted her opening the door with a big smile, “The children are having their tea, come in.”

She entered, the apartment was exactly the same as her, but with different decoration. Jim and Johnny were drinking tea and milk in the kitchen, watching cartoons on television.

“Do you want to have something fresh? I have orange juice” said Mrs. Jones.

“No, thank you Mrs. Jones, I was just coming for Johnny."

She saw her son gulp down all the milk in the cup. She looked at him sternly, trying to correct his manners, while her neighbor laughed.

“Children are like that, don't worry. If you want, you can leave him a little longer. He behaves so well, it’s a charm to take care of him.”

“No, it's time for him to bathe, I also have to start dinner, my husband is about to return...” she wanted to sound casual, the reality was that she needed her son at home so that she would not be alone there, surrounded by thoughts after what she had just lived through.

Mrs. Jones said goodbye to Johnny, gave him a lollipop. Thanking her, they both left.

“How it went with the boring things you had to do, Mom?” asked the boy.

Anna smiled at his innocence.

“It went really well, darling,” blinking back tears, she kissed his hair.

***

“Sleep everyone, it's not time to play!”

She heard Patrick's voice upstairs, and the complaints of all her children.

She concentrated on vigorously washing the dishes, leaving only the voices of her loved ones to be in her head.

But immediately she closed her eyes, giving up. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop hearing Anna Smith's voice, her father's voice, her aunt's voice, and her mother's voice.

Everything was a whirlpool that threatened to suck her back into the past.

She knew she had been motionless for too long, thinking, when she felt one of her husband's hands wrap around one of her wet wrists.

“Shelagh, are you well?”

She blinked, looking at him and trying to give a smile.

“Yes, I'm just so tired I think I'll fall asleep standing up,” she tried a cheerful laugh.

He took the last plate from her hands, set it on the counter, and looked at her.

“What's going on?”

She raised her eyebrows, trying to look innocent.

“What?”

“Shelagh, something's wrong with you.”

“I'm just tired,” she repeated, and took a cloth to dry the dishes, “Today was a very hard day, with so much heat and...”

Patrick gently placed a hand on her back, moving closer to her.

“Shelagh,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard, lying would not work. She had tried to look her usual self at dinner, and while she could fool her children, she knew that Patrick could not be fooled. And he was tired and he could choose to go to sleep, but he would not do that. If necessary, he would stay up all night, asking over and over until she told him what was bothering her so much.

So she surrendered to the circumstances she was in, even though she knew that what she said could have serious consequences.

She dried her hands with a cloth, and tossed it on the counter.

“My father died,” she muttered. She quickly took off her apron and placed it on a chair, “Can we go to sleep now? I'm exhausted.”

Patrick didn't move an inch.

“What did you say? Sorry, I don't think I got it right.”

She raised her head to look at him.

“My father. He died three months ago.”

She saw him sigh, move closer to her, but Shelagh pulled away. Patrick's gaze went from sad to confused.

“I'm so sorry, darling.”

Shelagh gave a hollow, bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“Patrick, don't say that out of compromise. You know I feel relieved.”

“Yes, I know but still...He was your father.”

“He was nobody. You would have killed him yourself, you told me once.”

He barely smiled, took a step toward her, but again she broke away, walking into the living room. She heard him following her.

“When you told me everything you suffered, and then he came back, twice, just to make you suffer more... Shelagh, I love you, I cannot bear that someone has done you so much harm. Much less someone who should have protected you, not run away.”

She sat on the couch, gathering her courage to tell the part that was missing, and that Patrick did not know. She patted there for him to sit next to her. Immediately he put an arm around her, drawing her to his chest.

“And that's why I love you, Patrick, because I know you would never do that. You proved it with Timothy.”

He smiled, took her hand, played with her wedding ring.

“How did you know about that?”

She pulled her hand away from him and ran it over her face, trying to collect her thoughts on how to start. He looked at her in puzzlement, watching every move.

“Today a woman went to the clinic.”

Suddenly she needed air. And also a cigarette. She looked out, the summer night was cool, they must have sat in the garden.

She felt Patrick take her hand again, bringing her back to reality.

She took a deep breath.

“That woman...I didn't know her. But I knew that she existed.”

She saw him nod, looking at her nervously, but urging her to continue.

“She is...She is my father's daughter.”

Patrick widened his eyes. In panic, she saw that the one who was breaking away this time was him.

“Shelagh you have a sister and you never told me?” he murmured.

She sighed shakily, tightening her lids. Then she nodded.

“Shelagh, how can you not tell me you have a sister?”

“She's my father's daughter, it doesn't count.”

“Shelagh she is your sister!”

He was scandalized, and he was right to be. She asked him hundreds of times to tell her everything, and he did it, she knew that he shared everything with her, his fears, his mistakes, his most terrible memories. And Shelagh made him believe that she did the same.

Now he knew that while she did not lie, she did hide very important things.

With nerves taking over her body and her voice, she tried to be conciliatory.

“All right, all right,” she said, hearing how her voice shook, how her hands did too, and how her eyes could not see him because she was full of shame, “I’m sorry Patrick, I’m sorry, I wasn't honest with you. I...I never said it because... I just forgot it. And if I forgot it, how was I going to tell you? If it doesn't exist, it doesn't exist.”

“But how can you forget that you have a sister?!”

“She's not my sister, damn it!” she stood up, he too, and followed her across the room before taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. He was angry, and she was angry to see how the peace of their home was disturbed in this way.

“Shelagh, what happened with that woman? And why didn't you tell me about this?”

“Nothing happened, Patrick. God, she's only appeared a few hours ago and she's already making us argue!”

“Hey, we're not arguing,” his voice turned to a whisper again, and he stroked one of her cheeks gently, “Shelagh, calm down. It's clear that this upsets you a lot, and I think I can understand why you didn't tell me. Sometimes we try so hard not to remember what hurt us that we erase it from our minds.”

She lowered her eyes, feeling guilty for having someone like Patrick by her side. Tears appeared again, fighting in her eyes and in her throat.

“It didn't erase off, I just ignored it so it wouldn't keep hurting me. If even I couldn't think about it, how was I going to say it? Nor can I find words to explain it now.”

She was led by him to the couch again, and there he hugged her tightly. Shelagh rested her head on his chest, feeling protected even though she knew that outside of the small world that was his embrace, her entire life was turning around.

“Do you want to tell me?” she heard him say.

“No, but it doesn't make sense to pretend that nothing happened,” she sniffed, felt him kiss her hair, “My Aunt Lorna told me when I was eleven. My father always had two wives, my mother and Anna's mother.”

“Is her name Anna?”

“Yes, Anna Smith. She came to see me; she was the one who told me that my father died. But she didn’t come only to that, she had a folder in her hands, I don’t want to imagine what is there. She wants to tell me who she is, who I am, and who we are. And I don't want to, Patrick, I don't want to see who my father preferred.”

Tears broke her voice, and he pressed her against his body.

“I don't know who she is, look if she's a crazy person who wants to talk to our children or to you. Or if she wants to demand something...”

She heard him sigh, and took her face for her to look at him.

“Shelagh, if you don't talk to her, you won't know.”

“No, I can’t. It would be like talking to my father. It would be accepting that, it would be as if from now on, many more brothers and sisters could appear, because... Who knows how many children that guy had out there?!”

He held her tighter and she began to cry, painful sobs hidden for a lifetime.

“I affirm what I said before,” she heard him say, “I would have liked to kill him.”

She broke away, now a smile was straining to appear on her face, to show him in some way how much she loved him right now.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” she whispered.

Patrick sighed, stroked her back, looking at her seriously.

“That's not a problem, honey. But, I think you really should talk to her.”

“No. I can’t, I don’t want to.”

“Think about it. I can accompany you, you no longer have to fight this alone. Maybe with a couple of words with her everything will end and so you can live in peace again.”

***

The plate fell, smashing to the ground. Her frightened cry barely left her mouth, and was mixed with a sob.

Immediately, John's arms were around her, caring for her as she broke into pieces like the plate.

She pursed her lips so that her sobs would not wake her little son, but it was impossible, her entire body was an explosion of pain.

John pulled the kitchen cloth from between her clenched fingers, and led her into the bedroom, turning off all the lights.

He closed the door and sat her on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said through tears, and he just stroked her back, in an attempt to calm her down.

He kissed her temple and hugged her.

“You went to see her, didn't you?” he whispered into her hair.

She nodded on his shoulder, another sob escaping her mouth.

“Why didn't you call me? I could have returned right away.”

“Johnny was here playing,” she managed to say through tears, “I didn't want to end up the way I am right now in front of him.”

She broke away from his embrace and wiped her face with her hands.

“What happened?”

She shook her head, staring at the ground.

“She didn't want to listen. I knew that would happen, but I tried it anyway. But she didn't even want to look at me, because she knows who I am. This is so stupid, I feel stupid! Stupid for doing it, for looking for her, for loving my father and crying for him!”

John hugged her again, stroked her wet cheeks.

“Anna you are not stupid, you’re brave.”

She denied, rolled her eyes.

“It's true, even if you think I'm exaggerating. You're facing all this alone, that's not stupid.”

“I'm not alone, you’re with me.”

“I know, but while I can accompany you on this, Joseph was not my father. You are alone, you are feeling the pain of knowing what did someone who you loved and admired all your life. And you found out about his worst mistake in a terrible way, and you decided to look for your sister and you found her, and you have done everything feeling that pain.”

“But John, for what? It made no sense. I must have ruined his life, and look how I am now!”

“Anna, look at me,” he cupped her face with both hands, she looked up at him, feeling frustrated and defeated.

“No John, don't try to make me see something good in this because there isn't. That’s all; I know who she is, her name and where she works. But it’s over. Now at least I know which streets I must avoid in order not to find her.”

“Anna...”

“And we should move as soon as possible. Forget buying that car you want, we need another house, far from here.”

Sighing, he released her face, but his hands went to hers, stroking them slowly.

They both stared at the same spot on the floor, listening to the ticking of John's clock on the nightstand.

“What if...?” he began, suddenly, “What if she, when today's surprise passes, wants to hear from you? She doesn't know how to look for you.”

“She won't, John. I saw it in her eyes.”

“Suppose she wants to. This afternoon she was surprised because she didn’t expect this and reacted like this. But maybe, when the hours passed, she thought about it. She may be thinking about it right now, and she wants to see you and hear what you have to say to her, but she doesn't know where you are, she doesn't have your phone number or your address.”

“She can look for me, like I did with her,” Anna stood up quickly, “I'll go take a shower, I want to sleep once and for all.”

John got to his feet too and stood in front of her.

“Anna, go and see her again.”

“John, this isn’t a fairy tale, nor are we two girls. We are two adults, we have our lives made, and we don’t need the other. It's over, I already told you.”

“Anna, she's your sister. Whether you like it or not, like her or not, you are sisters. Even if it’s, tell it to her face, that she doesn’t assume it, that she knows it for sure. Tell her what happened, tell her it's not your fault, that you didn't take her father, and that your mother didn’t do it. Try not to let her hate you for something you didn’t do.”

***

Two days later, Shelagh entered the clinic with hesitant steps.

Her children were already everywhere, oblivious to the situation their mother was going through, and she tried to smile at them, pretending that everything was fine.

She glanced sideways, her heart pounding at the idea of seeing that woman among the other women, waiting for her with that green folder.

Her husband's hand went from her waist to her right hand, squeezing it firmly. She looked at him in panic, feeling her feet trying to carry her back to her house, the only place that seemed safe.

She sat in front of her table, put a fixed smile on her face for the mothers who were arriving. Patrick passed behind her; she could feel his eyes looking at her with pity, understanding, anguish.

At the same time, Anna Smith closed the door of her apartment and put the key in her bag.

She greeted her son, who almost ignored her as he played a car race in the hallway with his friend Jim. She advised them not to make too much noise so as not to disturb the neighbors, and she waved to Mrs. Jones, who was watching closely. The woman wished her luck “with the proceedings at City Hall.”

Anna thought she preferred a thousand tedious proceedings before doing what she was about to do. She smiled at her neighbor, thanking her.

Clutching the green folder to her chest, she pressed the elevator button.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people who read this! Thanks a lot for being there.   
> I have many doubts about my writing in English, so if you see mistakes or things that are wrong, feel free to say it, so I can improve!  
> Happy November!

She leaned against the wall, feeling the cold damp from the bricks stick to her body even though it was one of the hottest days of the summer.

She looked everywhere, the busy street with cars, bicycles and children running was bustling to the max, perhaps enhanced by the heat and good weather.

She saw women with prams, babies in their arms, and small children clinging to their hands, passing in front of her.

She looked at her watch, it was too early. She would have to wait there maybe all afternoon, but she would. She did not want to go in and look for her, like she already had. She would wait outside, away from the gaze of these women who seemed very into gossip, judging by the snippets of conversations she was listening to as they entered the Iris Knight Institute.

A door opened and her heart stopped for an instant when she saw the blue flash of a uniform.

She breathed in relief when she noticed that it was a tall, dark-haired nurse who greeted a mother laden with children and then very quickly taped a poster to the glass of the door with duct-tape.

Another woman arrived, red from exhaustion and the warmth of a swollen belly, and the nurse commented on the poster with her. It was an announcement about a preparation for future parents, or something similar, to be held the next day in the same place.

Anna pulled away a bit, her back against the wall, crawled a few inches further from the door, so that no one would notice her presence there.

She clutched the folder to her chest, closing her eyes. She reviewed what she would have said if, instead of this nurse coming out to taped her poster, Shelagh had come out.

She practiced it several times the day before, and even that very day, she said it in a whisper, at the risk of seem a crazy person, as she walked there. She remembered nothing now, and panic began to crawl on her skin.

“Ma'am, do you need anything?”

She opened her eyes, fear increased in a second but then descended. It was not Shelagh, it was, again, the poster nurse. The woman was looking at her with a frown.

“You feel good, love?”

“Yes, yes. I was just...I'm waiting for a person here,” Anna pretended not to have nerves, showed the folder under her arm, “She summoned me here to give this to her.”

“Oh, I understand. But you feel good?”

“Yes, of course I'm just hot. You know…summer!” she made a smile to confirm her lie. The nurse seemed to believe her.

“It's true, today is a terrible day,” the woman smiled, then nodded to Anna and entered behind a couple of women with more babies.

She exhaled and looked at her sweaty hands glued to the fabric of her dress and the green cardboard of the folder. She tried to remember her little speech that now seemed almost nonexistent. Resigned and even more nervous, she resolved that when she saw Shelagh, she would show her the letters she had, and tell her that her mother was not aware of any of this.

_If you can't save yourself from her hatred, at least save your mother,_ she told herself.

The flow of patients increased and decreased a couple of times, until at dusk no one approached or entered, but no one seemed to leave the place either.

When she thought she could not spend another minute standing on her new shoes, the door opened and she instinctively stepped back a bit, as if to avoid danger. Nerves curled in her stomach knowing that the time had come.

Two nurses came out, chatting and laughing, then a nun carrying a box, along with another nurse who immediately got on a bicycle and left.

The door closed, and no one else came out. Anna thought that maybe the place had multiple doors through which staff exited and entered. If that was so, then she had waited all afternoon in vain.

A few minutes passed, and she debated whether to enter or leave. If someone came out and it was not Shelagh, then she would give the folder with the request to give it to her.

She was wary of whether someone would comply with such a request, but she was tired, the nerves were as overwhelming as the heat, _and she really wanted to end all of this._

Suddenly the door opened, and two girls leaped out, asking a doctor for ice creams, who assured them they would have the ice creams if they stopped behaving like this.

Anna took two steps toward the man, determined to speak to him, but saw that behind him, with a blond boy in her arms who looked very much like her, Shelagh emerged.

***

It was hot, but her blood ran cold in an instant.

Very faintly, she could hear her daughters laugh and feel the tug of Teddy's hands on her hair, demanding her attention.

The relief when she saw that she was able to accomplish her day's work without that woman standing in front of her again, faded.

Anna Smith was there, with that folder in her hands, standing and waiting.

“Shelagh?” her husband's hand on her back made her break eye contact with the blonde woman, and she looked at him, almost begging him to get her out of there. Patrick seemed to understand everything right away, because he looked at Anna and whispered, “Is her?”

Without answering, because she did not trust her voice or her body, she gave Teddy to Patrick. The boy complained, he looked for his mother, stretching his arms, but she did not look at him, because her eyes were on Anna again.

She smoothed her uniform and, lifting her chin, walked towards the one who was waiting for her.

“Go home with the children,” Shelagh said without looking at her husband. The steadiness of her voice sounded almost like a military order.

“Shelagh I can stay.”

She barely turned her head to look at him.

“No, go.”

He looked back and forth between her and Anna, his frown declaring that he was very concerned about the situation. Shelagh managed a small smile to reassure him, although that did not convince him or her.

“Go with the children, I can.”

Patrick gave a little nod, looked at his daughters who were chasing each other down the sidewalk laughing, and told them that their mother would catch up with them later. Shelagh saw May stop, looking at her as if she understood that something strange was happening, but she quickly turned to follow her father.

She turned and saw her, Anna still standing there without saying anything and without moving, a spectator of an instant in Shelagh's family life.

“Hello,” Anna greeted her. Shelagh noticed her voice tremble.

“Hello,” she replied, straightening up and crossing her arms over her chest, as if the gesture could make herself bigger and more confident.

Shelagh wanted to ask her what she was doing there, why she insisted on torturing her, but she wanted Anna to start talking, because it was clear that talking was hard for her and Shelagh was not going to make things easier for her. She watched Anna swallow, nervous and lost, and almost felt satisfaction.

She was also afraid to discover the darkness that this person could draw from her.

When Anna did not say anything, she raised her eyebrows and lifted her chin, looking at her haughtily.

“And…?” she asked, feeling almost arrogant, in her chest the fight between two versions of herself, the one who wanted to be good and ask her things in a polite way, and the one who wanted to yell at her to get out of there.

“I...” Anna began, breathing in air, “I came because I wanted to talk to you. I think you know who I am.”

Shelagh stood better on her feet, still with her arms crossed.

She glanced at Patrick, who was walking across the street with her children, talking about ice cream when the ice cream parlor was on the exact opposite side. For an instant he looked at her, making sure that so far, everything seemed to be at peace.

“I know very well who you are, Anna,” Shelagh said, turning to the woman, “And I already told you, if you come to talk about Joseph, I don't care. I'm not interested.”

“I know, I can imagine why. I just wanted to tell you that…”Anna opened her folder and Shelagh trembled. She saw her quickly rummaging through some yellowish envelopes, “I have these things.”

Suddenly Shelagh saw herself, but small and child, smiling in a battered photograph. She knew that photograph, in fact she had a copy kept at her home. But seeing it in Anna's fingers made the nostalgia and affection for that image turn to hatred towards the person who held it.

“I have that photo, thank you,” was the only thing she could say because she was using too much force to avoid taking it from Anna’s hand and throwing it out into the street.

Anna looked at her puzzled, then put the photo back in the folder, and reached for something else there, but closed it suddenly and looked at Shelagh again.

Now Anna had the same arrogance, haughtiness, security, and perhaps also the same hatred as Shelagh. She no longer seemed nervous, guilty, and anxious, but seemed determined to be heard without allowing to be looked down upon. Suddenly, Shelagh saw a much stronger rival in front of her.

“Shelagh, I know you hate me…”

“Perfect, you know, then we don't have to talk about anything.”

“.. And you have every reason to hate me,” Anna continued, ignoring the interruption, “Yes, you're right not to want to see or talk to me. It’s fine, I'm your... I'm Joseph's daughter, and that's worth your hatred and contempt for me. But I didn't know that you were his daughter too. I never knew, I only found out three months ago, he told me before he died. You can imagine how I am since then.”

The firmness in Anna's voice and her words tied a lump in Shelagh’s throat. She lowered her eyes, trying to breathe, anger and grief filling her veins.

Shelagh leaning against the wall, Anna imitated her, still looking at her with those eyes identical to Joseph's.

She tightened her lids, hugging herself, feeling cold from the sunset, and from Anna's gaze on her.

“God, I need to smoke,” she whispered, and searched her pockets until she found a cigarette and put it in her mouth. She saw the lighter tremble in her hand as she tried to light an ember in the cigarette.

She took a deep drag, closing her eyes tightly. She wished that when she opened them and blew out the smoke, Anna Smith had disappeared.

But no, she was there, she kept looking at her without saying a word.

Shelagh looked at her cigarette, then looked at Anna. She wanted to talk to her. After what Patrick told her, she thought and pondered. She must to listen to her, she must to put, even for a minute, aside her grudge and listen to what Anna had to say to her.

She did not know who Anna was. Perhaps she too was in pain like her, perhaps she also had a miserable childhood absent from the affection of a father, and now she sought her to find, even if only, the affection of a sister. Shelagh winced at the implication of that name.

“You want?” she showed her cigarette, a small peace offering to start a more civil conversation.

“No thanks, I don't smoke.”

“How strange, Joseph did.”

“Yes, but I never liked it. Dad invited me one, once, and I coughed so hard that...”

_Dad_.

Hearing that word was as if Anna had punched her in the stomach.

Anna was not a woman hurt by her father. She called him Dad, even after he died, because she loved him and had good memories with him. She was not an equal; she was someone who had what Shelagh did not.

Anger surged, filling her and threatening to overflow. She pushed herself away from the wall, tossed her cigarette on the floor, and stomped on it. She looked up, Anna was still staring at her, looking innocent, and that unnerved her even more.

“What do you want Anna?” her voice came out sharp and accusatory, “What are you looking for? Do you want to know something to receive an inheritance or something? Look, if that's it, I don't want anything from him, do what you want, keep everything, I don't care! I already told you, I don't care, please leave me alone!”

She felt stupid, but could not help herself. She wanted to appear strong, contemptuous, to show that nothing Anna said or showed interested her, she wanted to believe it herself, but her own body and her emotions betrayed her.

So here she was, almost in the middle of the street, with a broken sob in her throat and tears rolling down her cheeks, unable to take control. She felt weak as when she was a child, unable to cope with anything.

“Leave me alone, please,” Shelagh repeated, a whisper this time, completely defeated.

Anna took a step, and for a moment Shelagh was terrified that she would hold her, but she did not. She just looked just as affected as her, her lower lip was trembling, her eyes were red.

“I'm sorry, Shelagh,” Anna whispered, “I'm so sorry.”

***

The woman in front of her seemed completely broken, far from the one she saw coming out the door, so cheerful and smiling, and further still from the one who greeted her when she realized her presence.

She felt sorry, and pity. Shelagh's hard skin was only feigned, like she, too, feigned a hard temperament to be heard by Shelagh.

There was so much pain there, and Anna could not even imagine how Shelagh managed to push it aside to become the woman she was.

She blamed herself again, even though she knew she was not responsible for this, but she was ruining her existence right now, and the best thing to do was to leave, as Shelagh was asking her.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated, although that did not solve anything. Shelagh seemed not to hear her.

They have not a good start, but for a moment Shelagh seemed to loose her grip with the resentment, and offered her a cigarette.

And there Anna ruined everything, because in her eagerness to please her, to establish a minimum conversation, she mentioned him.

As she practiced what to say to her, Anna was careful not to mention the word _"Dad."_ He would be Joseph and nothing else. First, because she did not want to affect Shelagh, and second, because she was trying to erase that image of a good father in her head, to replace it with a man who did not deserve that title.

But her tongue was faster than her mind, and before she could stop it, she said it.

And now everything seemed to have exploded, because she too wanted to cry, she wanted to apologize a thousand times but she also wanted to yell at Shelagh that she was not the only victim because what happened hurt her too, she wanted to throw the letters and the photographs that also ruined her life, and she wanted to flee from there forever.

She could do it, but she stood her ground, with her last strength, because this had to be stopped. She needed to tell what she wanted to tell, and then yes, she would leave Shelagh alone.

She saw Shelagh gasping for air, taking off her elegant glasses and wiping her face with her hands. Then Shelagh looked at her with an indecipherable and naked look that only made her feel even more guilty. When she put her glasses back on, she seemed calmer.

“So he told you before he died,” her voice contrasted with her appearance, because it was still hard and cold. She leaned her back against the wall again, and with her hands she rummaged in her pockets, probably looking for another cigarette. She snorted in annoyance at finding nothing, and crossed her arms again, staring out at the street.

“Yes. He said it and I didn't know if he was raving or not. Then he passed away.”

“It's funny that he remembered me when he was about to die. Especially since he didn't do it in his entire life.”

“I'm sorry,” Anna repeated and felt, again, very foolish for thinking that she was responsible for everything.

Shelagh shook her head, looked up at the already nearly dark sky.

“Its fine,” she said, “I know it's not your fault that he preferred you, and that he preferred your mother. My mother died, it was logical for him to go with another woman.”

“Shelagh I didn't know. I didn't even suspect it. I saw him drunk many times, saying certain things and made-up things, but he never mentioned you, he never said something related to another family. He never even said anything about Scotland. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.”

She saw that Shelagh was sniffing, took out a handkerchief from a pocket and blew her nose.

“At least my mother never knew this,” Shelagh muttered.

“Mine neither. Shelagh, I swear to you my mother never knew anything like this, I'm sure. She forgave him everything, but she would never have forgiven him for something like that. There were women, yes, and she pretended not to know. But another daughter, without a mother, so far away...Look, if you want you can hate me, but please, I need you to know that my mother was not aware of this. Otherwise, she would have forced him to go for you.”

“He went for me.”

She gaped at her, Shelagh continued speaking, staring at the street, as if she was remembering aloud.

“He did it. He came back three times. Once when I was a child, he wanted to take me with him, to live with you and your mother, I guess. Although he was so drunk that he might have left me lying there, or traded me for a bottle of whiskey.”

Her voice was terribly sad now, and Anna felt her eyes fill with tears when she heard it. But Shelagh did not look at her, she just kept talking.

“He came back once more, there was still the war. Then, he found me here one day.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here, in Poplar. Both times I kicked him out. I don't know why he came back, I’m sure he didn't even know. So you see, he came, but it was too late, the damage was done and I didn't want him in my life.”

Anna was speechless and silence rose between them, barely interrupted by the sound of cars. She leaned her head against the wall, closing her lids, trying to take in everything she had just heard.

She heard a sigh, opened her eyes and saw Shelagh putting her handkerchief in a bag that was on the floor, and that Anna had not seen.

“It's late, my family is waiting for me.”

“Shelagh,” Anna took a step toward her.

Shelagh looked at her, she seemed smaller than she was, her tough facade completely gone. Anna took a breath and felt the air chill her, even though it was warm and humid.

She held the folder out to her, Shelagh let out an annoyed sigh.

“Anna I don't want to see what you have there. I really must go.”

“We found these things with my husband. They were at Joseph's house. They are letters from your mother, before they were married. There are also letters from Lorna Mannion, I think she's your aunt. And also there are other photos of you.”

Shelagh looked at the folder suspiciously, sighed again. She reached out her hands and took it.

Anna felt even more nervous as she watched Shelagh open the folder and run her fingers through the envelopes and photographs. Suddenly, Shelagh made a small smile when she saw a photo where she was with her mother.

“I don't have this photo,” Anna heard her say, over the noise of two cars passing.

“Take it. Take everything, it's yours.”

“No, just this...” she slid the photo out of the folder. Then she seemed to think better of it, “Well, my mother's letters too. I don't know if I want to read them, but...it's something of her, I'd like to have it.”

Anna saw Shelagh’s fingers tremble as she searched through the envelopes, and again, she felt an overwhelming sense of pity. Perhaps Shelagh was wondering why her father kept these things if he was never interested in her.

She, too, wondered the same thing, and also wondered if, some nights before going to sleep, her father looked at the photographs of his other daughter wishing he had stayed with her and not with Anna.

Tears filled her eyes again, thinking what would have happened had with her, and with Shelagh, if Joseph took the right path in life and not the easy one.

But things did not happen that way, and still, Anna wanted to know better to Shelagh Smith, or Mannion, or whatever the name of this sensitive little person who was assembling the heart again in front of her.

She tried to find the words to tell her and keep Shelagh from saying goodbye and never seeing her again. But she could not find any except for more apologies for something she was not to blame.

***

Finding a photo of her mother, smiling, with her in her arms, was surprising.

It was an old and a bit dirty photograph, but the two people there looked happy, radiant. Once her mother and she were like that, two people who shared songs, went for a walk, danced in the kitchen and laughed all day.

She had her mother for a few years and yet every day she tried to be like her.

She caressed the image reverently, until suddenly she remembered that she was on the street, with Anna, this woman she did not want in her life for a second longer.

Anna told her to take the photograph, the letters, everything.

Shelagh did not know if Anna was doing it out of kindness or sadism, so that she would read those letters and suffer even more for her mother, Joseph, and her past.

She decided to save only the photo, because although she wanted to see her mother's neat handwriting again, she was afraid to read her words of love towards a guy who just cheated on her.

Anna fell into a respectful silence as she looked at the photograph. Then she spoke, apologizing again.

It was not her fault, but it was inevitable not to blame her.

Shelagh put the photograph in a pocket, and prepared to say goodbye and ask her, again, to leave her alone.

Shelagh was about to tell that when she looked at Anna.

She really looked at Anna, beyond stopping at those Joseph's eyes and her well-groomed blonde hair.

There was only a small, slim woman with tears in her eyes who did not deserve this.

Suddenly, as a punishment from God, the one who felt guilty was Shelagh. Because Anna was a person who apparently was looking for nothing except to give her these things. She had no ulterior motives, she did not have the smile and the words of someone who sought to deceive. She was not crazy; she was not there for the sole purpose of making her suffer. She was just a person asking for forgiveness, bearing the guilt of another.

Shelagh would have done the same. If in the past the roles had been changed, she would have done the same. She would seek Anna, find her, speak to her.

And above all, she would know her.

When she was a child and was left without her mother, she desired a sister. She wanted it very much, she dreamed it.

But when she learned that that sister existed, she forced herself to hate her along with whoever fathered her.

Anna was not someone to be hated. She seemed noble, hurt to know a truth that did not belong to her but that affected her. Shelagh imagined that she would also feel betrayed by the man she called _Dad._

And besides, Anna was only asking her, without words, one thing: to know her.

Shelagh wanted to know her too. She still did not have the courage to accept it, but perhaps she could open a small window for Anna.

She struggled to make a smile, searched her head for a way to tell her this, but her intention was only there, because the voice of reason took over.

Many years had passed. They were two women reaching forty, with a whole life lived without knowing about the other. They were both adults, and as such they had to patch up the holes of the past, but Shelagh could not. It hurt too much, even with the noble and well-meaning Anna in front of her eyes.

The best thing would be to finish everything in that instant.

With a bang, she closed the folder, and handed it back to Anna.

“Take it away. Burn those things, I don't want them and I guess you don't either.”

“It's fine, Shelagh,” she whispered meekly.

“Well, I have to go now. Thank you for this,” Shelagh held up the photo.

“You're welcome, Shelagh.”

Shelagh turned, took a couple of steps away, closing her eyes and feeling relief.

Everything had passed, the chapter was closed and now she could be at peace. She would not hold a grudge against Anna, she would not hate her, she would pray for her and her family.

“Shelagh!”

She stopped, squinting her lids. She heard Anna walk behind her.

She turned and tried a smile, to no avail.

“Shelagh, I'd like to talk to you more.”

She was perplexed to see her courage to say it, voicing what she felt and did not dare to express.

“Here, this is my address,” Anna handed her a folded piece of paper, “It's here in Poplar, but I'll be moving soon.”

Shelagh blinked, her mind was blank, and she could not decide what to answer, she just took the paper, and Anna smiled a little, gesturing with her free hand that it was not holding the folder.

“I would like to know you more because...Well, we are sisters and...”

“No!”

Suddenly the anger that had been appeased revived in full force and was quenching all peaceful feelings towards Anna.

“No, don't you dare say that word! You and I are nothing, you understand?”

Anna took a step back, but without fear.

“Call it what you want then, Shelagh,” Anna hissed.

Shelagh knew she was behaving like an insane person, but she could not control herself.

“I'm not calling it in any way. You are the daughter of that man and that is the only thing you have in common with me. We don't even have the same last name.”

Anna bit her lower lip, shaking her head. Then she sighed.

“Fine, Shelagh. I respect you. I really would have liked to chat more with you. I mean it, and not because...well, that. But because you seem like a special person. But you don't want to, so that's it.”

Shelagh nodded and Anna turned, walking slowly. She saw her approach a garbage can, it looked like she would throw the folder there, but she continued walking, tucking the object under her arm.

Shelagh wondered what was happening to her mind that was so unstable, because she felt guilt again and a mixture of emotions that was pulling her in different directions. She looked everywhere, she was alone, she needed Patrick's support. She also thought of Sister Julienne, they could advise her, tell her what to do.

She decided to risk it, to do it on her own, without anyone's help.

“Anna, wait!”

“Don't worry Shelagh,” the woman replied without looking at her. Then she turned around, it was dark but Shelagh could see the sheen of tears on her face, “I won't walk these streets. You won't find me by chance, stay calm.”

Anna turned again, Shelagh saw her crossing the street, and then slowly lost into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it has been a long time since my last update and that this is not very happy or related to Christmas, but I could not let the year end without uploading a new chapter in this story.  
> It's December and my head isn't working anymore, so I'm sure you'll find a lot of mistakes. Sorry about that.  
> Happy Christmas, and enjoy the new Christmas Special!

Her husband rested his head on her shoulder, sighing. She knew he was smiling, like her.

“You are identical,” she heard his whisper.

Shelagh stroked the photograph gently.

“Do you believe it?”

“Yes. The smile, the nose,” he pointed with a finger at the photograph, “The look in the eyes. I don't know what color her hair was, but I think it's the same as yours too.”

“Yes, it is.”

She raised the photo to her lips, tenderly kissing her mother's face.

She looked at it, Patrick was right, in many things they were the same, and more now that the years passed faster than before and her face and body could not keep up with time. She saw herself many times as her mother in recent days, when tired and worried, she looked in the mirror to comb her hair and almost found another person in front of her.

She smiled again, feeling almost grateful to be getting older, and stroked the worn paper again.

Suddenly, her father's face appeared in her mind, blurring her vision towards the beautiful memories. This photo was among his things, it was groped by him.

She felt a sudden impulse of disgust and dropped the photograph.

But her mother, smiling through decades and decades, calmed her in the same way as when she was a child.

“Tomorrow I'll buy a frame for you to put the photo in there,” Patrick said, oblivious to what was going on inside her. Shelagh looked at him, snapping back to reality, trying to smile her thanks.

“It could be very nice.”

He leaned back on his pillow, sighing wearily, and she returned to the photo and to her mind wandering between nostalgia and sadness.

A yawn reminded her that she should rest and that all day was weighing on her body, so she took off her glasses and put them, along with her photograph, on the nightstand.

She turned off the light and leaned back next to Patrick.

“Patrick, I don't know what to do.”

He turned to her, resting his head on one hand so he could get a better look at her despite the darkness.

“With Anna?”

She nodded. He sighed.

“Shelagh, how do you feel about her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said you wanted to hang her first and then hug her, and then you threw her out and called her back.”

“I didn't say I wanted to hang her.”

“Well, your look gave it to understand,” he laughed slightly, “I also saw that when you greeted her and approached her. But I don't understand the rest.”

“Me neither,” she said sadly, resigned to her elusive mind giving her no answers.

“Look, I'll tell you something Sister Julienne always says: Listen to your heart.”

Shelagh snorted, shaking her head.

“Well, I don't think that answer works for you,” Patrick smiled, stroking her hair slowly.

“No. It doesn’t works for me.”

“What I think is that you should take your time. Only two days passed, it's a problem too big to solve now. Think about this when you really want to do it, don't be overwhelmed now.”

“What if ...?” Shelagh swallowed, her throat feeling dry in fear of what might happen, “What if she comes back?”

“She assured you that she won't.”

“I don't know her, I don't know how she thinks. If she comes back I...I think I would be ridiculous, because I would start crying out of despair in the middle of the street. I don't know how to deal with it.”

A tear rolled down one of her cheeks, and she sighed in frustration.

Her nerves were turned into a tangled skein of wool, with her heart and mind in the middle, unable to free herself from resentment and hope at the same time. If she remembered Anna, she felt the strange tug of blood inviting her to come closer and meet that noble person.

And also, she felt the most extreme rejection, the same one that made her drop the photograph of her mother for fear of touching and seeing the same thing as Joseph.

Patrick leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“If she comes back, tell her the truth, tell her that you need to take time to think about everything, but most likely, you never want to see her again. This way you make sure that she doesn't come back again and again.”

“It's a good strategy,” she said after a few seconds, thinking about what she had just heard.

“Now sleep, it was a too long day.”

She closed her eyes, and almost instantly fell asleep.

However, she did not get much rest. Her nightmares returned with the same force of her childhood, and again she saw her mother being buried, and aunt Lorna hugging her and snuggling her against her thick black coat to protect her from the icy wind.

Shelagh awoke with a start, looking around her. She was relieved to see that she was not at Lorna's house, helping her with her embroidery, feeling bored and alone. She was in her own home, and the only sounds to be heard were the ticking of the clock and her husband's breathing.

She sat on the bed, inhaling the air and exhaling it slowly, to calm herself and erase the sad fragments in her tormented head.

As she always did when she woke up in the middle of the night, she began to pray, and this tome, she begged for Anna. The woman mentioned a husband, Shelagh calculated that she would also have children. She prayed for all of Anna’s family.

God taught to forgive, Shelagh could not do it with Joseph, but at least she could try it with Anna.

When she leaned back and closed her eyes, again her mind returned to the endless waiting, to the days turning from cold to hot, and to a little girl, looking out the window, believing in the promise of her father.

_"I'll just go to London and come back, my Shelagh. It will be a week, and I'll bring you a new dress!"_

He did not return, he stayed with Anna, and surely he gave the dress to her.

***

“And how did it go?”

She tried to make a smile as she brushed her hair.

“How do you know I went to see her?”

John rested his hands on her shoulders, staring at her in the dressing table mirror.

“You are an open book, a transparent book.”

Anna put down the brush and turned to look at him. John sat up on the bed, expectant.

“It was good, and bad.”

He frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“I gave her the things. But she gave them back to me, she only wanted a photo of her mother. I...made the mistake of mentioning Dad and then asking her to talk more, to get to know each other a little more...”

“You want that?” John raised an eyebrow.

“I don't know, it was an impulse.”

“And what did she say?”

Anna took a breath, pursing her lips.

“She didn't take it well. I mean, first, things started really bad, then they got a little better, then they were bad again, and they got better, and so on...”

“And did they end...?”

“Bad. I left, it no longer made sense to continue talking because she doesn’t want to know anything about me and at the same time...You know? For a moment I thought she wanted to talk to me. She looked at me like she really wanted to have a conversation without Joseph involved. But then everything ended badly, with her crying and screaming...”

“I think your sister is a little crazy.”

“John...”

He smiled, stood up, and cupped her face with both hands. She melted, he knew that gesture always consoled her, made her feel loved, and that was something that Anna appreciated a lot after a day like the one she had just experienced.

“Anna, I think what you did was very valuable, you put all of yourself. On the one hand I’m glad that you want to know about her, but on the other, I don’t like that you are exposing yourself to all this. You aren’t a person where others can vent their frustrations and grudges, you deserve more than that. You already tried and nothing happened, so forget it.”

She lowered her eyes, nodding.

“Yes, I think you were right from the beginning. I must have pretended not to know about all this. Get on with my life.”

He kissed her forehead and then took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“I think it will be the best for you. Now you need to sleep, you look exhausted.”

“John, she's not bad, nor is she crazy,” a sudden desire to defend Shelagh crossed her, making her feel compelled to say that, “She's a good person, I know. I feel it. She's just hurt, she suffered a lot when she was just a little older than Johnny. I understand her, I understand her attitude.”

He nodded.

“Excuse me for what I said.”

However, Anna caught in him a glimpse of a small smile as she lay down on the bed.

She understood that a while later, when John was already asleep.

She did not want to see Shelagh anymore, but she understood her. She did not want to know about Shelagh, but she defended her.

_“I'll let a little time pass,”_ she thought, _“So I can understand this much better.”_

When her sleep covered her with bits of the day and the past, Anna saw her father, coming home and flopping into a rickety kitchen chair, kicking off his muddy boots and throwing them around.

Her mother scolded him and he laughed without obeying her.

Little Anna moved closer to him, spreading her arms.

“Did you bring my doll?”

“Oh no love, I forgot it!” Joseph put his hands to his head, “But you know? Very soon I will bring you a better doll than the one you asked for. She is beautiful, she has blonde hair, blue eyes and glasses.”

“Glasses?” Anna wrinkled her brow, “That's horrible.”

“No honey, that makes her very beautiful. You will see.”

Anna woke up almost jumping on the bed. She did not know if what she had just seen happened or were inventions of her head getting tired in the middle of the night.

She sat up, snuggling into the sheets even though it was so hot.

After several minutes of straining, she drew the truth out of her dream fantasy.

That had happened.

Her father mentioned several times that he would bring her a doll like her, to play and go to school. Anna claimed for her gift several times, until Joseph stopped giving answers and one day he said something mysterious that she did not understand until this very hot night.

“I won't be able to bring her because I was very bad with her.”

He said it with a voice so dark, sad, and different from the one Anna always listened to, that she did not ask for more dolls.

On her birthday, she received a doll, but it was not blonde, nor did it have blue eyes, nor did it wear glasses.

****

_A month later_

Shelagh smiled as she saw Sister Julienne having a serious conversation with Teddy about why he could not eat the cake she had brought before dinner.

She squeezed the iron down hard, drawing a perfect line on Timothy's school pants and laughed when she saw that Teddy seemed not to respond well to the nun's arguments. Defeated, the old woman looked at her.

“Nothing I tell him will convince him, he wants that cake. He’s very stubborn.”

“I wonder who he learned that from,” Shelagh laughed.

Sister Julienne set Teddy down on the carpet and watched him for a moment as he crawled over to his toys. Then she turned to Shelagh.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Oh no sister, I invited you to dinner, not to work. Plus it's just the girls' and Timothy's uniforms. It is the second time that I iron them but I always find new wrinkles, I want them to be perfect for Monday.”

“I don't doubt it,” the nun smiled, then looked around, getting serious, “Shelagh, have you seen...?”

Shelagh set the iron aside, then unplugged it by pulling hard on the cord.

She had been dodging that conversation with both Julienne and her husband for a month and now she had no escape and felt anger.

“No,” was all she answered, folding a shirt with the same force she would need to push a piece of furniture around the house.

“Oh.”

She looked up, the nun barely smiled at her, only with her lips, a grimace rather than a reassuring smile.

Shelagh put the shirt aside, sighing.

“I'm sorry. It's just that I didn't talk about this anymore, nor did I think about it. Patrick told me to take my time and think about it only when I really want to, and the truth is, I never want to. She came back, once, she gave me letters and pictures of my mother that Joseph kept. I only took one photograph with me and asked her to throw away the rest of it.”

“Oh, Shelagh...” the woman looked at her, hurt and also shocked.

“It sounds harsh but it's like that,” Shelagh continued, avoiding looking at the nun, “I'm not interested in seeing her. I understand her, she feels guilty, but I don't want to know more. I pray for her every night, and I also ask God for some guidance and at the same time I’m afraid that He will answer me and show me that I should get closer to her.”

“I understand you, what you went through is very hard and when you managed to overcome it, everything came back.”

“Yes. But I must continue,” Shelagh smiled, folding another shirt more gently.

The nun smiled too, though Shelagh could see that she disagreed with her. Julienne was probably thinking that she should leave a little space for Anna to come into her life because she was her sister.

Anna was her sister, even if Shelagh did not admit it or even think about it.

Her daughters entered the living room, chattering about the stars, constellations, and everything new that their brother had just taught them. She saw Timothy come in behind, taking all the credit with his teenage self-confidence, saying that was a basic thing and everyone knew it, but the girls kept staring at him, marveling as if he were their hero and the greatest genius.

Shelagh felt hypocritical because she encouraged that, she always tried to make the relationship between siblings, even when everyone in her family was of different origin, to be something strong and lasting.

She planted a smile on her face and announced that dinner was surely baked and ready, and fled into the kitchen, thinking about Anna, her own children, and what she was refusing to do.

***

Anna clutched her head.

That day her migraine had decided to return after months of absence, and Johnny was not helping to make the discomfort go away.

“John, your son doesn't want to get up,” she announced, entering the kitchen.

Her husband laughed and walked to the boy's room. She heard them talking and laughing, clearly John could convince the child through jokes, games, promises, and comparisons with football players.

“Mom, come and help!” Anna heard her husband calling her and when she entered, she found him already with Johnny sitting on the bed, taking off her pajamas.

“What's happening here?” she smiled, even though she felt the pain from her head moving down her entire body.

“I can't find his clothes.”

“Oh John, in the chair,” laughing, she approached with the uniform in her hands.

Johnny frowned, tried to refuse but his father was already putting on his white shirt and dark tie.

Together, both parents quickly dressed the boy, and then Anna carefully combed him and put a few drops of perfume on his neck. Johnny did not seem very convinced, but after eating breakfast, he became more animated.

When everything was ready, the three of them left the flat for the first day of school at Poplar.

As they walked towards the school, Anna could not stop looking to the sides.

Shelagh had children, at least those two girls Anna saw a month ago were probably in elementary school. Anna did not know how many schools there were in Poplar, and although she did not pray much, she prayed that the catastrophic coincidence of Shelagh attending the same school that morning, and every morning, would not occur.

She became impatient, looked at John but he was entertaining talking with his son. She wanted to tell him to try to get serious about her idea of moving, it did not matter if she was in Antarctica, she needed to be out of Poplar.

She thought of her happy life in Yorkshire, where her mornings consisted of walking with John to the Crawley residence after walk with Johnny to the local school, and spending the day in her work, then in the afternoons visiting Joseph at his cabin, make him some dinner, and go home to play and do homework with her child.

It was a calm and serene life, surrounded by nature and people he had known forever.

London scared her, and Poplar much more, with its new buildings contrasting almost obscenely with the old and dilapidated, with children everywhere, debris from war, dirt, cars and bicycles, and people from all over the world talking loudly in incomprehensible languages.

In another moment that swift movement would have excited her, but in that irrepressible mix that was Poplar, there was also Shelagh.

“Very well, we're here!” John exclaimed, pulling her out of the mental turmoil.

The school was in front of them, several teachers were greeting the children, welcoming them. There were plenty of parents too, and with a quick glance, Anna saw that Shelagh was not there.

She breathed in relief.

“John Bates?” A red-haired woman greeted the boy, but he did not respond.

“Johnny, where are your manners?” Anna squeezed her son's hand and the woman smiled an uneven white-toothed smile.

“Oh don't worry, kids are shy the first day. You come from Yorkshire, don’t you?”

“Yes,” John answered, “My son did his first school year there.”

“Well Johnny, this may scare you but I assure you, your classmates are very good. You come?” The teacher held out her hand, Johnny did not loosen his grip on his parents.

Anna leaned toward him.

“Johnny go to your teacher, darling. Do you remember what we talked about? You will have new classmates, your teacher is very pretty and good, and I will be here when your class is over. And look, there is Jim.”

The boy was excited to see a familiar face and let go of his parents' hands.

“Hey champ, say bye to your mother,” John said.

The little boy turned, gave his mother a big kiss and then another to his father, and went into the schoolyard with the teacher.

They saw Jim walk up to him and introduce him to his friends, and then they all walked in together.

“Well that was easy,” John said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though Anna knew he felt insecure.

“When I come for him, I'll call you to tell you how it went.”

“Oh that would leave me calmer,” he sighed, taking his chest, “I don't know if it's because he's our only son and I want the best for him, but it breaks my heart to see him like that.”

“It's just for today, tomorrow he'll be happy. Did you see those kids? They seemed friendly.”

“I hope so,” John offered his arm for her to wrap around hers and together they walked slowly.

“John, aren't you running late?”

“I'm the manager! I can arrive when I please. Also, I didn't want to miss our son's first day. Anna, are you okay?”

She smiled, affirming. Then she stopped and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“John, we need to get out of here.”

“Oh no, Anna, now? What if Johnny makes great friends and we tell him again that we should move?”

“John, think of me. It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I feel...discomfort. I feel like this when I leave the flat, I imagine that she is everywhere. And I know I'm an adult and I have to face things, but I'm too old to do it.”

John sighed, looking around. Then he took her hand.

“Fine, Anna. Today, when I have a free moment, I’ll find out places far from here. After all you’re right, I’m traveling a lot and that exhausts me.”

She smiled in relief, and he, not caring that they were in front of many unknown people and almost in front of the elementary school, kissed her deeply.

When he released her, he smiled at her.

“Don’t worry anymore. Now I must go, take something for that migraine.”

She waved at him, laughing, and walked slowly, thinking about what to buy for lunch and dinner. Arriving at a pharmacy, she bought some aspirin.

***

Shelagh glanced at her watch, then glanced around her. There were a few mothers waiting for the younger children. She greeted those she knew and looked at her watch again. Other mothers still roamed with the older children, chatting and laughing.

Nerves grew, time seemed stopped and she felt like an easy prey.

At last the school doors opened and she saw her daughters come out.

She approached them, greeted them with a kiss and a hug.

“Girls, now we're going with Teddy to a coffee shop, what do you think?”

The girls celebrated, and Shelagh wanted to get out of there quickly, but the teacher stopped her. She just nodded to everything the woman told her about the girls, and thanked her.

Taking the handle of Teddy's pram, she walked alongside her daughters, listening to all the comments they had about school, feeling guilty for not paying enough attention to them.

She did not know if Anna had children, but the very idea that she had them and they attended the same school as her daughters, or Tim's high school, or Teddy's nursery, made her panic.

_This is not life,_ she thought.

She felt like she was running away from everywhere like a criminal, in constant fear of finding Anna on any corner talking about Joseph or claiming a fraternity she did not want.

They entered the coffee shop, it was almost packed with people, and she let the girls choose a table by the window, although Shelagh would have preferred the more secluded and hidden of them all.

“Mom, can we have cream pies?”

She smiled at May, sitting politely on the other side of the table, next to Angela.

She had to tell them that cavities would be grateful for cream pies, but that afternoon she did not have the heart to be a mother, a nurse, and a teacher. She just wanted to forget about Anna and have a good time with her little children.

“All that you want. It’s our celebration for your first day of school.”

Both girls gave a little cry and began to choose all the pies that they looked delicious and attractive.

Meanwhile, Shelagh looked out the window. The sun came in and illuminated her table and made her children's hair shine. Twice she saw women like Anna and had to be careful not to make startled gestures that would scare her children. Absentmindedly, she just asked the waiter for tea and continued to look down the street and nod and smile at what she heard from the girls.

_Enough Shelagh. End this._

She looked back at her daughters, their mouths were full of cream. Teddy was the same, making his usual mess on the clothes and on the table.

She drained the cup of tea, already cold, and smiled at them.

“Well, it's time to go home,” she stood up, lifted her son into her arms.

“Will Dad bring us to school tomorrow?” Angela asked taking her bag and following her mother out into the street.

Shelagh bit her lip to keep from laughing. She knew why Angela and May were interested in being brought to school by Patrick. It was a secret of father and daughters, which she knew very well. Patrick bought them chocolates to eat at school, and he believed that she was unaware of the small infraction.

“Yes girls, tomorrow Dad will take Teddy to nursery, and then you to school. He will do it every morning, unless he has to leave first for the patients.”

She saw them looking at each other with complicity. She should scold Patrick and remind him that in addition to being a father he was a doctor, but she was grateful that she could, at least for a few minutes, stop feeling haunted and watched by Anna, or her ghost, and just think about her happy family.

But the next day she could not warn her husband, because an urgent call got him out of bed long before school hours.

Shelagh saw her daughters very disappointed, but she kept her amusement and quickly prepared them for a new day.

She was relieved, Anna did not appear, nor would she appear.

She could go on with her normal life of Shelagh Turner.

***

“Shit, shit, shiiiit!”

“John!” she said scandalized, trying to react, “What's wrong with you?”

Her husband was dressing in a chaotic way and there were ties and shirts all over the bed. Anna narrowed her eyes, the window was also open and the lamps were on but she was still sleepy. She looked at the clock, it was very early.

“Didn't you hear the phone? They just called from the hotel. Sinatra arrives in two hours!”

“Wasn't he supposed to arrive tomorrow?” she asked in a yawn.

“He anticipated his damn tour. Shit, I won't be in time!”

“John, stop blaspheming like that” she got out of bed and dragging her feet, opened the closet and took out a hanger, “Here, this shirt is the best, and I ironed it yesterday.”

Her husband took off the shirt he was wearing and took the one she handed him.

“I'll make you even a tea so you don't leave with nothing in your stomach.”

As she walked into the kitchen and continued to hear her husband's string of insults, a sudden cramp in her abdomen made her double over in pain.

She saw John leaving the room and she tried to smile at him, though the pain seemed to deepen as she did so. Concealing her discomfort, she looked at the kitchen calendar and suppressed a complaint when she knew what was causing her pain: a late period was always synonymous of aches and pains.

“Anna, are you okay?” John said seriously.

“Yes,” she smiled again. On a morning like this, the least she wanted was to worry him even more, “Sit down and have breakfast.”

“I'm sorry but if I do, I won't be there in time. I'll have tea or anything at the hotel, don't worry,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek, “See you, honey. Give Johnny a kiss for me, and tell him I'm sorry I can't take him to school.”

“I'll tell him,” she walked him to the door, “Ask Sinatra for an autograph, for me.”

John laughed, and she was happy to make him laugh in that state of confusion, anger and worry that he was in.

She saw him calling the elevator, insulting the machine for its delay and slowness. When it arrived, John climbed onto it and disappeared.

The pain in her abdomen also disappeared, and she started to wake her son up.

After answering all the questions about his father and Sinatra, she was able to convince Johnny to go to school by telling him about his neighbor Jim and a little friend he had made the day before who apparently owned a large album of stickers.

They walked slowly, enjoying the morning sun and smelling the aroma of freshly baked bread in bakeries. Johnny had shaken off sleep and mistrust of school, so he talked endlessly about all the plans he had to carry out during recess. Anna nodded, smiling at him but looking everywhere, thinking that she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Johnny!” Jim yelled from the school door. Johnny let go of his mother's hand and ran towards his neighbor, crashing into a little girl with blonde tails and almost knocking her to the ground.

“John!” Anna yelled at him and her son turned to her, embarrassed, “John Bates, how many times did I tell you not to run like that? It seems that you don’t even look where you are going! Come on, say sorry to the little girl.”

Her son frowned, looking at the girl, who looked younger than him. He barely whispered the slightest “sorry.”

“John, be polite, say it like I taught you.”

“I'm so sorry,” now his little voice sounded better and clearer, but the girl with the tails just pressed herself against her mother's legs, staring at Johnny with fear.

Anna, embarrassed, turned to the girl's mother to apologize for all the inconvenience her rushed son had caused.

But the one who was there, looking at her and stroking the girl's blonde hair, was Shelagh.

“I...” Anna started to say, her throat was dry and tight, “I...I'm sorry. Hello Shelagh.”

“Hello Anna.”

Shelagh's eyes were looking at her impatiently, but there was no hostility in them. The two girls who were with her pulled her skirt and she looked at them, put on a tight smile and leaned in so that the girls gave her kisses on the cheeks and said goodbye to their mother.

Anna felt the same tug on her dress and saw Johnny claiming her attention. Only then did she realize that the teachers were announcing the entrance and that almost all the children had already entered the school.

She leaned over to her son too and he gave her a quick kiss.

“Be good, darling. And watch where you walk, stop running over people.”

Her son ran like an arrow, ignoring her advice.

The doors of the school closed and the mothers dispersed.

Only the two of them remained.

Anna took a hard breath, trying not to look at Shelagh.

“I'm sorry, Shelagh,” she whispered, thinking that she had lost count of the times she said that, even though she did not even know why she did it.

She turned and started walking quickly.

“Anna, wait!”

She stopped, her lids tightened. When she opened her eyes, Shelagh was already in front of her, agitated and nervous.

“Anna, would you like to have a coffee…with me?”


End file.
